Between Friends and Lovers
by GingerGirl221
Summary: Lucy O'Malley and Mark Cohen had been best friends for years. But the events that transpire during the Christmas season of 1989 could change that forever. MarkOC, RogerMimi, CollinsAngel, MoJo. Rated for language, sexual themes, typical RENT occurences.


**A/N:** My first attempt at a fanfic. This first one is very long!! Hope you guys can suffer through it! :)  
**Disclaimer:** Nothing belongs to me except my own character. Large portions of dialogue are taken straight from the movie. None of it is meant as copyright infringement.

* * *

December 24, 9 PM, Eastern Standard Time

"I'm sorry Miss O'Malley, but we're going to have to let you go."

These words replayed themselves over and over in her head as she walked numbly down the quickly darkening street. She hailed a cab with a gloved thumb and got into the back seat of a yellow car that smelled like weed and week old egg salad. She gave the man with the deep, scratchy voice the street numbers in monotone, buried her face into her thick green scarf, and stared blankly at the back of the passenger seat.

She had been let go. Fired. Anwen Elizabeth O'Malley was fired. Fired, fired, fired, fired. With a frown, she decided she liked the phrase "let go" a little better. But she'd never been fired _or_ let go from any job in her life. True, the small graphic design company she worked for was beginning to lose customers and was probably soon headed for closure, but why did she have to be one of the ones to go now? She had created some of the company's finest designs and even made a logo for a well-known shoe company's recent campaign. She didn't deserve this. OK, she wasn't making nearly as much money as she needed (or merited for that matter) to allow her to live the lifestyle she had wanted, but she had ignored this fact in favor of telling herself that she loved her job more than the desire for a lavish life.

"Here you are, young lady," croaked the taxi driver. The redhead blinked hard and looked out the window. She muttered her thanks and quickly threw the money at him before jumping out of the car. She heard the man drive away, thanking God that he hadn't realized that she hadn't given him the sufficient amount for the ride; she had just spent seven of the ten dollars she had in her wallet on the taxi trip.

Snow began to fall as she hurried down the street. She had been dropped off three blocks from her apartment building so she wouldn't have to give away all of her cash.

"Fuck, its cold," she muttered to herself, digging her frozen hands further into her pockets. She was wearing tattered jeans, a thin long sleeve T-shirt underneath a black shirt-dress with funky sleeves, a long gray battered coat, boots that had seen better days, and her favorite scarf that Mark had gotten her last Christmas. "Hypothermia, here I come," she thought cynically.

Ah, Christmas. It was her favorite time of year when she was little, but now that Santa didn't come around, it usually meant no heat, not enough money for a decent meal, and of course no money for presents. She loved giving gifts but as she continued her way toward her apartment, she honestly couldn't think of the last time she gave one.

As she entered the little street flanked by tall apartment buildings, she pulled her keys out of her large brown purse. She noticed that the lights in the windows were still on and, for the second time that night, thanked God: Benny hadn't turned off the power – yet.

Benjamin "Benny" Coffin III had once been one of her roommates when she lived with Mark, Roger, Collins, and Maureen; with a wry chuckle, she wondered how in the name of hell they had all fit into one apartment. Benny had married Allison Grey of the Westport Greys, bought the apartment buildings and the empty lot next door from her father, and became their landlord virtually overnight.

As she began to unlock the door that led into the first floor of the apartment, she glanced up. Stopping dead in her tracks, she stared at a piece of paper taped to the front of the building. In large bold letters read the words EVICTION NOTICE. Benny had broken his promise. With an angry sigh, she ripped the paper off the wall, examining it further. She scampered inside and took the steps two at a time. She bypassed her own apartment on the second floor and continued up two more flights to Mark and Roger's. Without bothering to knock, she pulled the large studio-style door open and barged into the gloomy living space.

Roger, from his seat on top of the small countertop in the middle of the pseudo kitchen, quickly looked up from his guitar, startled by his friend's sudden entrance.

"Lucy," he said, using the nickname given to her by her friends. "What's wrong?" he asked, noticing the distressed look on her face.

_"How can you create new designs when every single thing that you think up is destroyed?"_ she sang, throwing off her bag and brandishing the small pink slip that symbolized the firing from her job.

_"How do you write a song when the chords sound wrong, though they once sounded right and rare?"_ sang Roger as Lucy raided the kitchen for something to eat. But as soon as Roger had uttered the last word, the apartment was plunged into darkness and their electricity was extinguished. With another angry sigh, Lucy walked over to Roger and the two made their way to the power box.

_"When the notes are sour, where is the power you once had to ignite the air?"_ they sang together. Roger wrenched open the little door and began flicking switches inside of it at random. They looked around the room to see if anything had made a difference.

_"Some life that we've chosen,"_ the two commented cynically as sparks flew out of the power box after Roger had flicked a switch, causing the two to jump back in surprise and Lucy's hand to grip Roger's shoulder.

_"How we gonna pay? How we gonna pay? How we gonna pay? Last year's rent?" _they wondered aloud as Mark entered the room, his bike situated over his shoulder, shoving the eviction notice in Roger's face. The three exchanged looks as the phone rang. Mark ran to pick it up and Roger looked down at Lucy.

"Sorry, forgot to tell you," she said matter-of-factly, nodding toward the paper in his hands and giving him the one she had pulled off of the wall outside.

"Hello?" Mark asked into the phone. After a few moments of listening, he hung up the receiver. "Collins," he remarked as he pulled a pair of keys out of his pocket and opened the window. Lucy let out a squeal of joy and joined him on the balcony of the apartment; there in the street below, stood their friend and ex-roommate, Tom Collins.

"Hey," the two yelled down. Mark threw down the keys which landed at Collins' feet. He picked them up and Mark went back inside. Lucy smiled and blew Collins a kiss; he pretended to catch it and laughed, making his way toward the apartment. Lucy returned inside and shut the window behind her.

"Hey Luce," Mark said, properly greeting her for the first time that night. He gave her a light kiss on the cheek, which she returned, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Ask me how my day was," she said, taking a seat on the arm of the couch.

"How was your day?" he asked with a smile.

"It sucked," she replied. "I got fired."

"You're fucking kidding me?" he said in disbelief.

"Nope," she said simply, hopping up again to help Roger and Mark place candles around the room and light them.

_"How do you start a fire when there's nothing to burn and you feel like something's stuck in your flue?"_ Roger sang, lighting a candle and quickly dragging the empty trashcan that served as their illegal wood burning stove into the middle of the room. Lucy and Mark went about the room, picking up anything they could find that could be sacrificed to the trashcan inferno. Roger ripped one of his old performance promotion posters off of the wall and Lucy tore down a copy of her shoe campaign poster her two friends had put up in support.

_"How can you generate heat when you can't feel your feet," _sang Mark and Lucy in unison.

"_And they're turning blue?"_ the three sang together. Mark pulled a lighter out of his pocket.

_"You light up a mean blaze,"_ he sang, setting one of his thick screenplays on fire.

_"With posters,"_ said Roger and Lucy.

_"And screenplays!"_ yelled Mark. The three set their respective papers on fire and threw them into the trashcan.

_"How we gonna pay? How we gonna pay? How we gonna pay? Last year's rent?"_ they sang aloud, staring into the blaze.

More rushing around the apartment produced even more useless papers to light on fire. Lucy grabbed the pink slip and with a triumphant smile on her face, threw it into the lapping flames. She squinted at the dilapidated clock on the wall and frowned; Collins should have been inside by now. She quickly dashed to the door of the apartment and looked down the flights of steps of a sign of Collins, but he was nowhere to be seen. Mark joined her by her side and looked at her with confusion.

"Collins," she said, rushing back inside and running toward the balcony with Mark close behind.

"Where is he?" he questioned as they began to scan the street for their friend. Roger joined them.

_"How we gonna pay? How we gonna pay? How we gonna pay? Last year's rent?!"_

Hundreds of tenants were leaning out of their windows, throwing blazing eviction notices down into the street and accompanying the three friends in their song.

Dashing back inside, Mark began to sing again. _"The music ignites the night with passionate fire."_

_"The narration crackles and pops with incendiary wit,"_ Roger added sarcastically. Each of them picked up pieces of paper and added it to the blaze.

_"Zoom in as they burn the past to the ground," _Mark sang.

_"And feel the heat of the future's glow," _Roger and Lucy joined in.

_"How do you leave the past behind when it keeps finding ways to get to your heart?"_

Roger and Mark picked up the trashcan and carried it over to the balcony, dumping it over the side.

"_It reaches way down deep and tears you inside out 'til you're torn apart! Rent!"_

A large black SUV drove down the street and entered their alley.

"_How can you connect in an age where strangers, landlords, lovers, your own blood cells betray? What binds the fabric together when the raging, shifting winds of change keep ripping away?"_

Benny stepped out of the car and angrily slammed the door behind him.

"_Draw a line in the sand and then make a stand!"_ he sang, looking up at Roger, Mark, and Lucy.

"_Use your camera to spar,"_ Roger sang to Mark.

"_Use your guitar!"_ Mark and Lucy sang back to Roger.

"_When they act tough – you call their bluff!"_ sang the street.

"_We're not gonna pay. We're not gonna pay. We're not gonna pay. Last year's rent! This year's rent! Next year's rent!"_ Lucy, Mark, Roger, and the tenants resolved, glaring down at Benny.

"_Rent, rent, rent, rent, rent! We're not gonna pay rent! 'Cause everything is RENT!"_

The street dispersed slowly around Benny as he continued to glare up at his three ex-roommates. He turned to see a man leaning against his car.

"Hey, bum," he said. "Get your ass off the Range Rover."

Lucy scoffed as the homeless man hit the side of the car and began to walk away. Mark spoke up.

"Look, Benny, that attitude toward the homeless is exactly what Maureen is protesting," he said angrily.

"Maureen is protesting losing her performance space," he retorted. "Not my attitude. Come down I wanna talk to ya," he said as he walked back to his car and got back in.

Lucy and Mark picked up the trashcan and brought it back inside while Roger remained on the balcony.

"I don't know how much more of his shit I can take," Lucy sighed as the two placed the trashcan back down inside the apartment.

"You're telling me," Mark replied, pulling his camera out of his bag and winding it up. He pointed it at Lucy and she feigned a toothy smile.

"Close-up on Anwen 'Lucy' O'Malley as she takes out her frustrations on a poor, defenseless little trashcan," he commented as she kicked the trashcan, leaving a small dent in the side.

"Shut up, Mark," she said with a smirk, looking into the camera lense. She turned around to face the balcony and called to Roger. "Come on, Rog. Let's go see what the son-ova-bitch wants," she said, following Mark out of the apartment and down the steps.

As they reached the bottom of the steps, Mark wound up his camera once more and started recording Benny as he climbed out of his truck.

"Close-up: Benjamin Coffin the Third, our ex-roommate who married Alison Grey of the Westport Greys," he said.

"Thank you very much," interrupted Lucy under her breath, putting on her best stuck-up yuppie accent.

"His father-in-law bought several buildings on the block and a nearby vacant lot, home to Tent City," continued Mark. "Benny hopes to evict all of the homeless from Tent City and build a Cyber-studio," he narrated. Benny began ripping several of Maureen's performance posters off of the wall then turned on Roger who was seated on Benny's car with Lucy by his side.

"Roger," he addressed him. "You're lookin' good for a guy who's going off from a year's withdrawal," he said, commenting on Roger's recent departure from his heroine junkie lifestyle.

"What do you want, Benny?" he asked him seriously. His old way of life was still a bit of a touchy subject.

"What do I want? Well, uh, my investor—,"

"You mean your father-in-law?" interrupted Mark and Lucy together. Benny shrugged and threw up his hand.

"Right. Read about Maureen's performance in the _Village Voice,_ got pissed, and sent me down here to collect the rent," he said with a wicked smile.

"What rent?" demanded Lucy defensively, hopping off of the hood of the car and starting toward Benny with Mark at her side.

"This past year's rent, which I let slide," he answered.

"What?!" exclaimed Lucy, appalled.

"Let slide?" questioned Mark. "You said we were golden!"

"When you bought the building," said Roger.

"When we were roommates? Remember you lived here?" questioned Mark.

"Yeah, how could I forget?" Benny said with a sigh. "You three, me, Collins… and Maureen. Always the drama queen," he commented, looking at her picture close up.

"She's… getting ready for a performance," Mark said. Lucy noticed the strange way he said this and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Still her production manager?" Benny asked, taking down another poster.

Mark paused before answering. "Not exactly." Lucy saw the way he tensed up as he looked from Roger to her. She leaned against the side of the car between Roger's legs and he put his hands on her shoulders.

"Still datin' her?" Benny questioned.

"I got dumped," he said with an exasperated sigh.

Benny turned around, surprised. "She got a new man?"

"Well… no," replied Mark. Lucy could tell he was getting annoyed.

"What's his name?" Benny asked, crumpling up the posters with an amused smile on his face.

"Joanne," said Mark, Roger, and Lucy all at once. Mark looked back at Roger and Lucy and scowled. Lucy shrugged with a little smirk on her face.

Benny looked surprised for a moment then began to burst out in uncontrollable laughter. The three friends looked at him with furrowed brows, not amused by his glee. But, as much as Lucy hated to admit it, she had always thought it was rather funny.

Maureen and Mark used to go at it for hours. Mark was completely smitten with her. When Mark had told Lucy Maureen was gay, she had to put on the serious face of a friend who felt deep remorse for the misfortune of another friend; but now, after seeing Benny openly laugh about it, she felt free to laugh about it too. That one St. Patrick's Day when they all got drunk and Maureen grabbed Lucy and started making out with her should have been a red flag.

Mark turned around and glared at her as she clapped a hand over her mouth. Roger hit her shoulder to try to make her stop.

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed through her fit of giggles.

"Thanks for being so understanding," Mark said sarcastically to Benny, disregarding Lucy completely.

"You expect sympathy from the guy who shut off our power on Christmas Eve?" Roger asked Mark. Benny continued laughing and tearing off posters as Lucy's laughter subsided. She placed a hand on Mark's shoulder, smiling apologetically, and got up from between Roger's legs and put her other arm around Mark's waist. He tried to shrug her off as he looked at her skeptically and she kissed the side of his cheek as a means of atonement.

"Got your attention, didn't it?" Benny asked, smiling. Roger hopped off the hood and started toward Benny.

"_What happened to Benny? What happened to his heart?"_ he sang, hitting his hand against Benny's chest. _"And the ideals he once pursued?"_

"_And the owner of that lot next door has a right to do with it as he pleases," _he sang back, matter-of-factly.

"Ouch…" mumbled Lucy.

"_Happy Birthday, Jesus!" _sang Roger as he stepped back from Benny.

"The rent," Benny said throwing the large ball of posters at Roger.

"_You're wasting your time,"_ sang Mark.

"We're broke!" said Roger and Lucy together.

"_And you broke your word,"_ sang Mark.

"This is absurd!" Lucy said, throwing her hands in the air and returning to go back inside of the apartment. Mark grabbed her hand and pulled her back toward him.

"_There is one way you won't have to pay,"_ Benny replied.

"_I knew it!"_ Roger sang, looking at Lucy and rolling his eyes.

"_Next door, the home of Cyberarts, you see. And now that the block is re-zoned, our dream can become a reality: You'll see boys. You'll see boys," _sang Benny. Lucy threw up her arms and pointed to herself. She pointed to her breasts, indicating the fact that she was, indeed, not a boy. Benny cocked his head and continued.

"_A state of the art, digital, virtual interactive studio. I'll forego your rent and on paper guarantee, that you can stay here for free, if you do me one small favor,"_ he sang, walking along the curb, balancing himself with his arms spread wide.

"What?" Mark asked annoyed.

"Convince Maureen to cancel her protest," he said, scratching the side of his head. Lucy looked at him in mild shock; Benny had reached an all-time low with this one.

"Why not just get an injunction, or… call the cops?" Mark questioned, walking toward him.

"Yeah, I did, and they're on standby," he replied. Lucy suddenly nodded knowingly.

"_But his 'investors' would rather he handle this quietly,_" she sang, using her fingers as quotations around the word investors. He explained.

"_But my investors would rather I handle this quietly,_" he sang the same time Lucy did, ripping one of Maureen's posters off of a phone booth. Roger started up from the car.

"You can't quietly wipe out an entire Tent City and then watch _It's A Wonderful Life_ on TV!" he exclaimed. Lucy silently thought fleetingly about how much she loved that movie.

"You wanna write songs and produce films?" Benny asked Roger and Mark. "_You need somewhere to do it! It's what we used to dream about, think twice before you pooh-pooh it!_" He jabbed his finger into Roger's chest and ruffled Mark's face with his own scarf. He went after Lucy and managed to give her behind a little smack before she attempted to hit him.

"_You'll see boys! You'll see boys!_" He walked further down the street and moved his hands up to show them his vision. "_You'll see the beauty of a studio, that let's us do our work and get paid. With condos on the top, whose rent keeps open our shop. Just stop the protest, and you'll have it made! You'll see!_ Or you'll pack," he finished. Mark, Roger, and Lucy simply stood there looking at one another and thinking. And without another word, Benny walked back to his car and drove off. The three friends made their way back up to the boys' apartment in silence.

Once inside, Lucy plopped down on the couch and pulled her legs underneath her. Roger leaned back on the edge of the arm and picked up his guitar. Lucy realized that this was the first time in over a year she'd seen him with it. It had taken up office off in some corner collecting dust since April's suicide.

"You're playing your guitar," she said; it was half a question, half an observation. She looked back at Mark and he raised his eyebrows in a shrug.

When Roger replied, he didn't look up. "Yeah," he said simply. He hadn't been one for words lately. Lucy simply nodded and pursed her lips, looking down. She shivered a little and sighed. Mark rubbed her shoulder as he walked around the couch and began pulling on his gloves.

"I was gonna go and try to find Collins… Wanna come?" he asked, addressing Roger. He didn't respond. He glanced at Lucy who looked away quickly. "I thought maybe, we could all grab some dinner." Roger stared up at him for a moment before speaking.

"Zoom in on my empty wallet," he said in a monotone voice. Mark looked defeated.

"Touché," he said. Lucy stood up and pulled out her own gloves from her pocket.

"Well, I'll go with you," she said in the most energetic voice she could muster. "I'm starting to worry about Collins." She smiled at Mark who tried to return the favor.

Lucy bent down in front of Roger while buttoning up her coat. "Please come?" she begged softly.

She planted a gentle kiss on Roger's lips. He responded a little by weakly pressing his lips to hers. They pulled away and Lucy looked into his eyes. They were so sad. It killed her to see him like that.

He definitely wasn't himself. He used to be this handsome, unattainable rock god. Now he was just a shell of his former self. But at least he was off the drugs. Anything compared to the way he was on drugs was better by tenfold.

She kissed him again and this time he reached up his hand to stroke her cheek. The look on his face was enough of an answer: no, he wasn't coming. She nodded lightly and he kissed her forehead before she stood back up. Walking over to Mark, she took his hand in hers. He clasped it tightly. They looked back at Roger.

"Take your AZT," Mark said before they walked toward the door, leaving Roger alone.

The relationship that Lucy and Roger had was a complicated one. Before there was April, there was Lucy.

They were together at one point, a long time ago. But that was ancient history now. Sure, they had moved to New York together, had sex and prolonged make out sessions on the couch, but that was before April came along. She guessed that they had loved each other once and she guessed that they still did, but because of the AIDS Roger had gotten from April (and the damned drugs and needles they shared), they couldn't have a relationship anymore.

Lucy hated April for what she had turned Roger into. Somehow she couldn't blame Roger for the mistakes she knew that _he _made; it was just easier to put the blame on someone who was dead and gone instead of _her_ Roger. He was never into drugs before _she_ came. Lucy had been more than willing to help Roger get over April and had been more than willing to sacrifice her own health for them to be together, but Roger would never let her do that. So now they were just close friends, former lovers who would occasionally exchange a liplock every now and then. Yeah, it was probably better that they didn't but sometimes Lucy just couldn't help herself.

Mark and Lucy walked down the street, her arm wound tightly through his. She pressed her shivering body into Mark's and he tried his best to keep her warm.

"Are you OK?" he asked, turning to face her and they continued down the street.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said through chattering teeth. When he eyed her suspiciously, she smiled to try to put him at ease. She even let a little giggle escape; she knew how he couldn't resist her giggles. "Really, Mark. I'm fine," she kissed his cheek to emphasize her point. The giggling and the kisses worked, he smiled reluctantly and returned a kiss to the side of her head.

Mark Cohen and Lucy O'Malley had been friends for longer than either could remember. They first met when Lucy and her family moved next door the Cohen's in Scarsdale. They were constantly hanging out and became permanent fixtures at each other's homes. People were always asking them if they were siblings or maybe if they were dating; Mark would blush and Lucy would simply guffaw in response and they would continue on with whatever was amusing them at the time.

Mark had always been the shy one. It took Lucy to draw him out of his shell most of the time. But one thing Mark wasn't shy about was filming. He constantly had that silly little handheld camera shoved in someone's face (mostly Lucy's and Roger's). Mark even made Lucy star in the cheesy movies he used to make. Upon graduating from high school, Mark suggested moving to New York in pursuit of a film career for him, a music career for Roger, and an acting career for Lucy; never one to say no to anything Mark and Roger wanted, she followed them blindly to New York's infamous East Village.

A sudden thought popped into Lucy's head as the two continued down the dark street. "Oh, your mom called me to remind you to not leave the hotplate on when you leave the house?" she said in confused manner. Mark chuckled.

"Yeah, she sent me one for Christmas," he explained. "She left me a voicemail telling me the same thing. What does she think I'm deaf?" He let out an exasperated sigh.

"Well considering the fact that you hardly ever call her, how is she supposed to know if you get her voicemails or not?" Lucy scolded. "You really should call her more often, she practically talked my hear off for an hour the other night," she said looking at Mark the way a mother would look at her son who just ruined a load of laundry.

He looked at her with guilt in his eyes. His worst fear in the world was to disappoint her. "Alright, I'll call her soon," he obliged, making her smile contentedly.

The two continued on that way for a while, talking about their days.

"Got some really titillating footage of some pigeons shitting up Central Park and almost got run over on my bike by some maniac taxi driver," Mark expounded unenthusiastically. "But I've decided that, from now on, I'm filming things as they come. No more writing dumb-ass scripts that never end up getting made anyway. And where the fuck is Collins?" he asked abruptly. He had stopped where he stood and thrown his hands in the air. _The cold must be getting to him,_ observed Lucy.

They had been walking aimlessly through the streets of Alphabet City for almost an hour searching fro their friend. Lucy crossed her arms tightly over her chest and shrugged grandly, attempting to add more warmth to her already freezing body. Her teeth chattered in her head as she looked around her.

"I don't know…" she sighed. Mark rubbed his eyes tiredly and removed his glasses to clean them with his scarf.

"Maybe he's back at the apartment?" Lucy offered weakly. If she couldn't believe herself, Mark definitely wouldn't believe her either. She didn't have a good feeling about not being able to find Collins. "He could've gotten distracted by the promise of some alcohol?" Mark chuckled at this as he returned the black rimmed lenses to his face.

"Yeah… Maybe you're right," he said. "Let's just go back. I'm sure he's fine. Besides, you don't look so good." Lucy feigned offense as he placed a hand on her back to lead her home.

"That's rude!" she exclaimed. But then she noticed that her stomach was bothering her; it was making strange gurgling noises that didn't have to do with the fact that she was hungry. She had a headache too. "What do I look like?" she asked abruptly, starting to worry. Mark quickly dragged her underneath the nearest street lamp to get a closer look. Lucy basked in the slight heat the light offered.

"Pale," Mark said. After a moment's hesitation, he added, "-r than usual," commenting on her porcelain skin. "You have bags under your eyes, too. Have you been getting much sleep lately? And just look at you, you're shaking like a leaf. Are you sure you're OK?" he questioned.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Lucy reassured, pushing her stomach ache to the back of her mind. "I guess I'm just tired. I've been busy with work lately. But I won't have to worry about that anymore, eh?" she said, attempting to make light of the situation as the two walked back down the street. Mark didn't find it funny.

"Don't try to change to subject," he scolded. "You're staying with us tonight. End of story," he added quickly, seeing that Lucy was about to protest. She just sighed in defeat and the two continued home in silence.

Mark had gotten extra defensive ever since Roger had been diagnosed as HIV positive. He would always get on Roger's case if he had forgotten to take his AZT and would practically have a panic attack if either Roger or Lucy so much as sneezed. Lucy understood though; the thought of losing Roger was unbearable and, even though Lucy was HIV free, Mark just wanted to make sure that both of his best friends would be with him as long as possible.

When the two arrived home, Collins was no where to be found. Roger said that he hadn't seen him at all either. But, then again, he seemed a little distracted for some reason, so who knows; Collins could've walked right into the apartment naked and Roger seemed like he wouldn't have noticed. Lucy's stomach began to churn at the thought of something bad happening to her beloved Collins, but both Mark and Roger assured her he was "a big boy who could watch after his own sorry ass."

Mark forced a few pieces of stale bread on Lucy and made her take almost half a dozen vitamins he had lying around. She begrudgingly swallowed it all and choked out a smile to appease Mark, even though she felt like she was going to vomit. She had to turn away from him so he wouldn't see what a difficult time she was having keeping the food down. Why was she feeling so sick all of the sudden? When Mark saw her shivering, he promptly retrieved one of his sweatshirts and instructed her to put it on.

"Mark, I'm fine! Really!" she said, her voice muffled through the sweatshirt as she pulled it over her head.

"Mmhmm," he said absentmindedly, beginning to set up his equipment to start editing his film. "Go ask Roger if he can lend you some warmer clothes," he demanded.

"Shouldn't you be going to bed?" Lucy asked as she made her way over to Roger's room. "It's, like, almost midnight." She only received a grunt in response.

She knocked on Roger's door quietly. A sleepy voice inside told her to come in.

Roger's room was fair in size, with a large mattress sitting on the floor on the wall opposite the door. A dresser and night stand stood nearby. The window above Roger's bed allowed a little light from the street outside to filter in through the ratty curtains. Roger was lying on his bed on his back.

"Hey," Lucy said with a smile.

"Hi," yawned Roger.

"Do you have any thick sweatpants I could wear tonight? Mark is making me stay the night here and he won't even let me go down to get my own pajamas."

"Yeah, sure," Roger said, climbing out of bed and making his way to his dresser. Pulling open one of the drawers, he got out an oversized long-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of dark gray sweats. Lucy muttered her thanks and changed right there, leaving her other clothes in a pile on the floor. She then climbed into bed with Roger, who immediately put his arms around her. She laid her head on his chest and absorbed his warmth. Roger suddenly rubbed her back with a vengeance.

"God, you are freezing aren't you?" he asked, pulling the covers closer around her.

"Jeez, why is everyone so concerned about my bodily temperature all of the sudden?" she questioned defensively.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because we don't want you to catch pneumonia and die?"

"I'm not going to die. Besides, I'd be more worried about you catching pneumonia and dying." As soon as she said it, she wished she hadn't. Roger just laid there in silence.

Roger's death was always an unspoken and not talked about inevitability. It had been in the back of Lucy's mind ever since he was diagnosed, but the friends just chose to ignore the fact completely. Mark and Lucy had never even talked about it privately.

"Oh God, Roger. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have–"

"No, Luce, it's OK. I'm more worried about me getting pneumonia and dying too. You never get sick anyway…" Lucy closed her eyes tightly. The two lay in silence for a while. Lucy suddenly spoke out.

"Never leave me," she whispered as her eyes welled up with tears. They were finally talking about it. Roger lifted her chin with his hand. The unnatural light coming through the window cast a blue glow on her face that suited her well and made her eyes glitter.

"Hey," Roger said, smiling reassuringly. "Who says I'm gonna leave you? I'll always be right here." Lucy tried to smile but she still looked sad. "OK?" he asked, wiping away a tear with his thumb. She nodded in earnest before he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. Replacing her head to his chest, she sighed.

"I miss you," she said after a few minutes of quiet. She hoped he would understand what she meant; he did.

"I miss you, too."

"I love you, Roger."

"I love you too, kiddo."

The two silently drifted off to sleep after that.


End file.
